Perfect
by Rachel Anna
Summary: Ron suffers some small-box-in-his-sock-drawer-induced stress, but finally pops the question. Although it did not go as planned, it is simply perfect. RonHermione, one-shot, post-hogwarts (obviously), please review - this is my first story! Thanks.


Author's Notes: Aww, I must say that this story kind of popped into my head, but I really like it. The introduction is Ron speaking, the rest is from Ron's point of view, third person. I absolutely love anything with a proposal in it, so here you are. Please please leave feedback, as this is my first story! Thank you so much.

Disclaimer: I obviously am not taking credit for characters or anything else in the Harry Potter books.

**Perfect**

When I was a kid, I used to wonder a lot about how you would know when you found your "soulmate", so to speak. Did you just know? Did you know when you saw them, or when you found out their name, or when you went on a date with them?

As beautiful as love as first sight sounds, that isn't how it happened for me. In fact, I hated the girl when I first met her. She was bossy and intimidating and annoying and a little scary, all at once. Had someone told me that day where I would be on _this_ day, I probably would have laughed in their face. But, as it happens, on this day there is nowhere I would rather be.

-

It was a clear, sunny day. Light was streaming in through Ron's window in his old room in the Burrow. Downstairs, he could already hear his mother, sister, and girlfriend bustling around making breakfast. It was a perfect day. But he knew it would be.

As Ron rolled out of bed, he could feel the butterflies in his stomach already going. And it wasn't even until tonight.

But this was the day, alright. This was it. By this time tomorrow…he felt his stomach lurch a little and shook his head, trying to loosen his nerves.

He quickly dressed and walked downstairs. His mother was at the stove cooking, Ginny and Hermione were setting the table. The whole Weasley family had come home for May break.

By saying the "whole Weasley family", that of course included Hermione and Harry as well. Harry was Ron's bestfriend and had been for as long as he could remember. Ever since their graduation from Hogwarts, they had been working together as Aurors, partners, and best friends. Ron could hardly believe he had the job, it was like a dream come true. There was absolutely nothing he would rather be doing as his career. It was perfect.

"Ron, could you pass me the mugs please?" Hermione interrupted his thoughts, gesturing to the cupboard. Ron felt his heart skip a beat, looking at Hermione and thinking of the small box upstairs, hidden carefully in his sock drawer. He nodded, fumbling open the cupboard door, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

"Thanks." she said, a little coldly, although Ron could not figure out why and did not have the energy to, and she turned back to the table. Ron, looking at the back of her beautiful messy curls, felt slightly nauseous. His stomach most definitely did not contain butterflies. Flying monkeys, possibly. He excused himself, trudging back upstairs to his bedroom and feeling physically sick.

Sure, he was excited. The prospect of what he was going to do filled him with excitement, but it wasn't like everyone described it. At the moment when he thought of Hermione, his heart did not simply swell with overwhelming joy that made him want to get out the little box now and rush downstairs. No, it made him want to keep the box well-hidden, where not even he could see it. The thought made his palms go sweaty and his face turn red and the little hairs on the back of his freckled neck stand on end.

Of course, there was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to do it. He had wanted nothing more for the past year and a half. He was happier than he had ever been, it was just that now that the time had come, he could not focus on anything other than his nerves. But he had the whole day to think about it. Joy.

Ron quickly took a shower, trying to calm himself down. Focus on getting to lunch, that's what he would do. From lunch on, halfway through the day, then he could be nervous. Okay.

After about fifteen minutes, Ron reappeared in the kitchen, where the rest of the family (and semi-family) had gathered for breakfast. Everyone was chatting and laughing and he took his seat next to Hermione, giving her a tight smile. Across the table, Harry gave him a small wink and whispered something to Ginny. Ron felt his face go pale and, looking at his mother's cooking, which he normally inhaled, realized that he was not hungry in the least. He fidgeted and fumbled under the table for about half an hour, until at last Mrs. Weasley banished everyone from the table, informing Fred and George that she was not the maid and it was their turn to clear the table. They groaned but grinned as George whipped out a small purple bottle labeled "_Cleaning Solution_" with the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes logo stamped on.

After about ten minutes of clearing plates and Mrs. Weasley confiscating various things from the twins ("I don't care how old you are, you are under my roof!"), everyone had dispersed.

Ron rose from his chair and felt an all too familiar tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Hermione, her beautiful brown eyes looking concernedly at him.

"Ron? Can you come upstairs for a minute?"

"Sure." he answered, following her and feeling as though he might throw up.

_Lunch, lunch, make it to lunch, take it an hour at a time._

Hermione led them into Ron's room (Mrs. Weasley did not permit them to sleep in the same room, Hermione roomed with Ginny and Harry roomed with Ron, which Hermione apparently found cute but Ron found thoroughly annoying) and closed the door.

"Are you feeling alright? You looked a little sick this morning and you didn't eat anything at breakfast." she said, looking worried and sitting down on his bed.

"I'm fine, really. Just didn't sleep well last night." Ron mumbled, nervously eyeing the sock drawer of his bedside table, which was just inches from Hermione's left knee. It wasn't a total lie, he had been out rather late picking out the content of the little box and had then been up awhile, nervously anticipating the next day.

Hermione, however, didn't look convinced, but after a few more minutes of interrogation said that she should go find Ginny so that they could go pick up some food Mrs. Weasley needed for later on. Ron watched her leave, staring at the door after her for a few minutes before snapping out of it. He heaved a sigh, laying down on his bed and nervously fiddling with his wand. After a few minutes, a knock came at the door.

"Come in." Ron said, looking up. It was Harry, who looked as though he were trying not to laugh but losing the battle.

"So…" he said, casually opening various drawers and looking inside. Ron groaned, pointing to the bedside table. Harry pulled open the top drawer, tossing socks aside until he found the box.

"I don't suppose you want me to open it?"

"I guess not. I'd like the get an opinion on it, but I think she should be the first to see it."

"Oh, fine." Harry said, disappointed but understanding. Normally, Ron knew, Harry would pry, but this was not the time. "So when are you gonna do it?"

"Tonight." Ron said, feeling his stomach lurch a little. "Did you tell Ginny?"

"Yeah, no one else though, I swear." Ron did not have the energy to summon anger, he had enough emotions going on already. He just blinked a few times, then stood up. After a few more minutes, they went downstairs to get a little work done.

The rest of the morning passed normally. He mostly avoided Hermione, who looked at him curiously when he wouldn't meet her eye. After lunch, she cornered him once more.

"Are you sick?" she demanded, looking rather angry.

"No…"

"Well then why have you wasted two meals that your mother took the time to prepare for you? Without so much as a thank you, even. You've stayed upstairs all day and only come down for meals that you don't even eat! I think you're being a little ungrateful, Ron, and your mother is concerned that you haven't eaten anything all day. Also, I don't know if you're mad at me or something, but you've been avoiding me all day and I don't appreciate it."

"I'm not mad at you. And I'm not sick." He would not meet her stare.

"Ron, look at me, I'm talking to you. Because you haven't looked at me all day, you didn't say so much as a good morning to me, even."

"Sorry."

"Well is there an explanation? I mean you left last night when you promised you would spend a little time with me, and you didn't come back until almost midnight. Then this morning, do I get so much as an apology? Of course not, that would be too civil, wouldn't it. I don't even get an explanation."

Oh, damn. He _had_ forgotten something last night. Things had been so hectic with ten people in the Burrow that Ron had promised Hermione they would spend some nice time alone. Of course, that had been yesterday morning, and he had been so nervous and preoccupied about going out that night that he had completely forgotten. If only she knew.

"Oh, Hermione. I'm really sorry. I had something really important to do, I can't explain right now."

She was getting angry. "What do you mean, you can't explain it to me? I think I deserve an explanation for your little 'late night out', don't you?"

Ron groaned, getting a little mad as well. He was already stressed out more than he could handle, she could cut him a little slack. He was tired and nervous and did not feel like dealing with this right now. "What do you mean, _late night out_? What do you think I was doing?"

"Well, you leave without telling me, go into the city, come back around midnight and try to sneak upstairs, thinking no one would notice. What would you like me to think?"

"Oh, Hermione, come on, will you? I mean be serious. I didn't do anything wrong, I just can't explain right now, and I don't feel like dealing with you!" he was almost yelling, and knew that he had been a little harsh. Of course, so had she. Kind of.

Hermione was silent. "Well." she said, after a moment of silence that felt like an eternity. "Well. I'm sorry you have to _deal with me_. It's not as though I was _worried _about where you were. It's not like I was _concerned _that you haven't said more than a sentence at a time to me in two days. No, of course not, why would that _matter_ to me?" With that, she stormed upstairs, slamming a door behind her. Ron sat at the kitchen table, putting his head in his hands. He rubbed his eyes, then got up and headed upstairs, going into his room. But he had to talk to her. He went back out into the hallway.

When he reached Ginny's room, he knocked gently on the door. There was no answer. Opening the door a crack, he saw Hermione sitting at the small wooden desk, staring out the window. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"Hermione…" there was no reply. "Look, I didn't mean it. Really. I was just angry." Apparently, he wasn't the only one. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing.

"Oh, you were angry? I see. Because I'm just peachy! God, Ron, like I don't get enough stress from you!"

"And what's that supposed to mean!" They were both yelling now.

"What do you think it means? I mean would it have been so much trouble to do me the decency of telling me where you were? Or, maybe if I'm such an _annoyance_ to you, you could have just told me _that_ so I wouldn't have been concerned about you sneaking around in the middle of the night!"

"It's not like that!"

"Then what were you doing out there!"

"I was buying a-" he stopped, feeling his heart beating in his throat.

"Oh, rubbish, Ron. You weren't doing some late-night shopping. And, if you were, what were you buying?"

"Nothing. It's nothing, forget it."

Obviously, she would do no such thing. "Ron. What were you going to say?" her voice was warning and a little threatening, but no longer shouting.

"Nothing, Hermione. Just let it go." He knew that these were wasted words. Hermione stood up, looking curious and angry at the same time.

"Tell me what you were going to say." her voice was no longer threatening, she just looked a little sad and disappointed, Ron supposed it was because he wouldn't tell her.

"Hermione…Hermione…I…I wanted to…" He reached towards his pocket, his hand shaking violently. This was not how it was supposed to go. He had a romantic night all planned out. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. But he didn't seem to have control of what he was doing. His sweaty hand closed around the box he had gotten from his room just a few minutes ago.

"What, Ron? Oh, honestly, it can't be that important. Ron."

"Stop, just listen. Don't say anything, please." he said this gently, carefully grasping the box. The last traces of anger disappeared from her beautiful face. She looked curious and a little concerned.

"Ron? What's wrong? What is it?" he put a finger to her mouth, desperately trying to quiet her. He could not hear her voice right now, he was already on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"Hermione…I…last night, I did buy something. It's for you, though."

"What? My birthday isn't for months, what are you talking about?"

"Hermione…Hermione…you know that I love you, right?"

"What – Ron – well, yes, but what are you -"

"And you know that you're like a part of the family."

"Of course I do." she said, obviously confused as to where he was going with this.

"Well…I'd uh, just, you know like to…uh…make that…official, in a way."

"Ron…what are you…"

Ron drew in a deep breath, pulling the box from his pocket and getting down onto one knee, looking Hermione straight in the eyes for the first time in the last two days. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might explode if he didn't do this quickly. "Hermione Granger…" he said, smiling nervously a little at her.

"Oh, my god…" she whispered, putting her hand to her mouth, her eyes beginning to brim over with tears. Ron, although he could hardly believe it and certainly would not admit it, knew that he was a little teary as well.

"Hermione Granger…will you marry me?"

"Oh…Ron…yes…of _course_…Ron…"

He laughed nervously and reluctantly, feeling his stomach unclench. He put the ring onto her finger shakily. Hermione began to sob and he drew her into a tight embrace, wiping away a single tear of his own (which no one would ever find out about), and laughing again. He felt suddenly extremely giddy, almost lightheaded, as she continued to cry into his shoulder. After a few minutes, they headed downstairs.

No, it hadn't gone according to plan. Not at all. The romantic dinner, the speech he had carefully prepared and practiced quietly, what clothes he was planning on wearing, they didn't matter now. Somehow, it was perfect.


End file.
